FIELD NOTES: Chasing moments, birding through a tornado watch

Raindrops beat down in chaotic rhythm on the windshield as I sat in my car around noon Thursday, Aug. 20, eating the picnic lunch I’d packed in my kitchen just before dawn. I’d set out on the turnpike early that morning and watched the sun rise as I drove southeast toward Philadelphia.

Arriving at Dixon Meadow Preserve a little before 8 a.m., I checked the weather app on my phone and looked up at the sky.

A bit cloudy, but it didn’t look like rain was imminent.

I’d been monitoring the hourly forecast for Whitemarsh Twp., Montgomery County, since the day before, hoping I’d be able to get in at least a few good hours of birding there on my last day of vacation before heading back to work.

This was my second time visiting Dixon Meadow Preserve, and my expectations were high, based on my first visit about a year ago and on recent eBird checklists for that location. One species I saw there last year and hoped to spot again was the blue grosbeak, a fairly uncommon bird.

Cornell describes it as “a stocky songbird with a very large, triangular bill that seems to cover the entire front of its face, from throat to forehead.

“Adult males are deep, rich blue with a tiny black mask in front of the eyes, chestnut wingbars, and a black-and-silver beak. Females are primarily rich cinnamon-brown. … Both sexes have two wingbars; the upper is chestnut and the lower is grayish to buffy.”

I’d barely stepped onto the path at the entrance to the preserve when the sound ID feature on my Merlin app detected one of these blue beauties, and I spotted a male perched way up at the top of the tallest tree around.

Wishing it would fly down to a lower perch where I could get a better look, I watched it for a few minutes through my camera, snapping some for-the-record pictures before it flew off.

Moving along the path, I kept my ears and eyes open for another uncommon species on my bucket list: the marsh wren.

Cornell describes this bird as “a small, plump, round-bodied wren with a short tail that it often holds up almost vertically above its back. It has a thin bill and short wings.

“The Marsh Wren is whitish below and rusty brown above, with black-and-white streaks down its back and a white eyebrow.”

Nearly everyone I met along the path who stopped to chat mentioned they, too, were looking for “the” marsh wren. Some even pointed out a patch of cattails where they’d heard it was last seen.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see this species during my visit, but I did spot a few northern house wrens while I was there.

As the hours passed, I continued to add birds to my checklist: Mourning dove, northern flicker, willow flycatcher, eastern phoebe, barn swallow, common yellowthroat, northern cardinal, and a robin with a nest full of hatchlings, just to name some.

My phone kept buzzing with severe weather alerts, but I ignored it.

Shortly before noon, small raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky, and I quickened my pace in an attempt to reach my car before getting drenched. That didn’t stop me, however, from pausing to watch an adorable fawn as it walked fearlessly through the wet tall grass several yards away from the path.

Just as I reached my car, the sky let loose in a full downpour.

Still unwilling to leave, I sat in my car eating my lunch and watching the rain, wishing it would clear up. Surprisingly, it did — just as I finished the last bite of my sandwich.

I covered my camera with a plastic rain protector, unrolled the sleeves of my already damp flannel shirt, and stepped back out into the light drizzle. The sun was breaking through the clouds in the distance, so I headed back to the trail. Soon, the rain stopped entirely, and the sun broke through, drying my clothes and the ground.

The severe weather alerts continued, however. I saw something about a tornado watch as I swiped the latest alert from my screen. It was warm and sunny, however, so I ignored my phone and kept going. (Don’t try this at home, kids.)

I was glad I stayed.

My favorite sighting of the day came at the end of my visit, when I encountered a pair of mockingbirds feeding their young. I didn’t note what time it was, but I must have sat on the ground watching them for about an hour.

The fledglings perched on a wire fence while the parents zipped back and forth, catching insects and gathering berries to feed them. I didn’t have to see the adults fly in to know when they’d returned — the little ones started back up with their loud squeaky begging whenever the parents were nearby.

Each time, the adult would land next to the young one and shove the food into its wide-open beak and down its throat. Then the begging would start up again, and off the adult went to look for more. Eventually, the juveniles quieted down and started preening their feathers or just sitting there looking ready for a nap.

Although many birders probably would have considered the blue grosbeak the best sighting of the day, to me, birding is more about interactions and special moments than about finding rarities. Don’t get me wrong — I love seeing lifers (species I’ve never encountered before) and compiling diverse checklists. But if I had to choose between a quick glance at the elusive marsh wren and an hour spent hanging out with the mockingbird family watching the parents care for their young right in front of me, I’d take the latter in a heartbeat.

I could’ve watched the scene for another hour, but as the sky began to darken again and the weather alerts continued, I had to acknowledge this probably wasn’t the best place to be should a severe thunderstorm — let alone a tornado — hit.

So, I headed back for the drive home on the turnpike in another severe downpour.

But thankfully, no tornado.

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